Why it's so cold
by Liquid Butterfly
Summary: Post series 2, eventual SylarxPeter, slash. Peter is giving himself in to insanity, and naturally, Sylar plans to take advantage of the situation.
1. Chapter 1

Peter stood on the roof of his apartment building, staring into nothingness. The city moved along as usual, nothing especially different.

The clouds made it hard to tell that the sun had begun to set, the darkness seemed to appear out of nowhere. It didn't matter, though. None of it mattered.

"...Nathan." Peter muttered; barely even a whisper. When did life become so meaningless? The people of New York scurrying around below him, constantly on the move to whatever they had planned next, never stopping to think; never stopping to care. Which was exactly the sort of attitude that Peter had adopted, not caring.

His eyes sunk to the ground and he for just a moment, but that was all he needed. He didn't even notice the dark figure looming behind him. He took a deep breath, and dived off the edge.

Exhilaration, freedom in it's purest form and perhaps even peace. These were one of several feelings that rushed through the man as he plummeted towards the cold, harsh pavement.

Crack.

The next thing he was aware of was a woman screaming, closely followed by the realisation of his own stupidity. Sweet Jesus, that was painful. Not that he didn't know all along that he'd regenerate, be unmercifully dragged back to life and all of it's petty amusements.

He stumbled to his feet and instinct told him to turn invisible, which only made the small group of people gathering around him become even more confused and scared. He needed to get the hell out of there, and fast. If one person – just one – opened their mouth about what they'd seen, the company would be on his ass like a lion and it's prey.

Then there was Sylar, that bastard was probably hot on his trail. Less than a few days ago, he had wrongly believed that the man was dead, killed by Hiro at Kirby Plaza. Now, thanks to a message left on his answer phone from none other than Mohinder Suresh, he knew that the good ol' bogeyman was back, and stronger than ever.

His apartment was unchanged. He was meaning to redecorate the place, but the time was never quite right and to be brutally honest, he couldn't bare the thought of moving the photographs, the memories, of the brother he lost – no, had taken from him. Many sleepless nights made him come to the realization that in some ways, his brother's assassination was most likely a good thing, in the sense that telling the world about their 'special abilities' would cause chaos and outrage. Fear.

But surely there were other ways to stop them other than murder, surely. At first he was determined to find out who killed Nathan, and tear them apart, piece by piece.

But he already knew who was responsible. The company. But the thing about that nasty bunch, they always have a backup plan. Be it black mail, threats or simply going in to hiding. Considering that they were currently performing all three acts, Peter had come to accept that he was simply out of luck.

Besides, would taking down the company actually do him any good? Would it bring his brother back? He already knew the unfortunate answer to that one. The company seemed to know what they were doing, so why not let them take control, if not just for a little while. Among other things, Peter needed time.

Time to do what?

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He wondered what would happen if he overdosed. Would his body fight the drugs, or would he die? Perhaps his self healing abilities only applied when he received physical blows, rather than self-inflicted junkie treatment.

He was dragged out of his 500mph line of thought when he heard something. The creaking of floorboards. So quiet, yet so close.

He sprung up in bed, glaring into the darkness that surrounded him.

"Who's there?" He attempted to growl, but sounded more afraid than anything else.

_He_ suddenly appeared on the bed beside him. Though the shadows hid his face, Peter knew exactly who it was. That calm, hypnotizing and deadly voice. The scent, that all too familiar smell. Strong and masculine, safe yet dangerous, alluring but deadly.

He raised his hand to form an attack, planning to use the voltage ability he learned from Elle, but he grabbed the hand... gently. Lowering it. His behavior was unusual and unexpected _and it scared him. _

'You don't want to do that.' He could hear those words in his head but were not spoken aloud, which could only mean one thing, the death of a friend. Matt, that mind-reading cop. Shit. The hand resting on his was moved and placed on his forehead, and he honestly didn't know why he let this display continue. Curiosity, perhaps? 'you should sleep'. The voice was soothing, and those words, just those three words, he found himself feeling hazy... sleepy. His eyes dropped and his body swayed until he fell back. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that seemed to come out was incoherent babble.

"S... Sylar..." He spat, using every bit of will power to keep his eyes open. The other man lay beside him, lazily propping himself up with his arm and placing his other finger over Peter's lips. He grinned, teeth seeming to glimmer.

"Sh – sh – sh."


	2. Chapter 2

Sylar stayed beside Peter for a second longer than he needed to before he was gone, leaving no trace but a dent in the bed.

The sun shone brightly through the window, past the blinds. But he'd closed the damn blinds, he _always _closed the blinds as you never quite know who might be watching, waiting. Peter rolled over to face away from the brightness of the sun, thud. What a nice way to start the day.

Noon.

Now he liked a lay in as much as the next person, but this rarely happened. He was always early to rise, not that this made him any more of a morning person, he just couldn't sleep.

He could never sleep, and he certainly wasn't tired right now.

He stood up, heading for the shower and stripping on the way, leaving a trail of discarded pyjamas behind him. Pyjamas being yesterdays clothes that he couldn't be bothered to change out of.

The warm water trickled down his body. Small droplets falling from his hair and rolling down his back and chest. Relaxing.

He thought back to the prior night. That had to be a dream, right? Nothing but a dream, it had to be a dream. What else could it be other than a dream?

Well, it could have been real for a start. May be absurd, but lately 'normal' was yesterdays news.

What could Sylar possibly want? Sylar already had an admittedly rather twisted, yet efficient form of absorbing the powers of others, stealing Peter's empathic abilities would be... paradoxal. Not least to mention greedy. Unless... Revenge. Of course! _Most likely. Well, possibly. Perhaps, maybe? Could be... probably not_. Sylar wanted to be special, he was a power hungry megalomaniac, but why waste time on an old enemy? After all, plenty more fish in the 'people who have pissed Sylar off' sea.

Peter became aware of the fact that he was now leaning against the side of the shower, arms crossed and brow furrowed, tapping his fingers to the rhythmic tune of the clock and thinking about little sweet irrelevant nonsenses. _That's enough of that. _He turned the now-cold water off.

"Peter, I didn't hear you come in." Mohinder muttered, not averting his attention from his mountain consisting of paperwork, various books and a laptop.  
"You didn't close your window." He replied passively, walking over to the bookcase and pretending to study it's contents. "Got anything on Nathan's killer?"

"No. I've hacked into the company's systems, nothing." He sat back and slouched, dragging his hands down his face in a melodramatic manner. "They seem to be as clueless as we are. But..." He paused.

"But?"

"But they had the same ideas. According to a report I found on their main database, they were planning to stop Nathan, but not to kill him. They were as shocked as us when... it happened." He still couldn't bring himself to say it. He'd hardly known the man himself, but Peter... God, that guy was an emotional train wreck. One wrong move and BANG! Off he goes.

"...What about Sylar?"

"Not a trace. Zilch, zero, nothing. It's almost like he disappeared from the very face of the Earth right after he stole the cure to the virus. Clearly there are two options here, one being that he took the cure and it killed him dead, the other being that his powers were fully restored and he's waiting for the best chance to strike."

"To strike who?"  
"Who knows. The company, you, anyone could be his next victim." He glanced at the non-responsive Peter and stood up, walked towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

_SYLAR_.

The second Mohinder's hand made contact, a shiver ran down Peter's spine. He jumped, spinning around and backing into the bookshelf, using his telekinesis to hurl the scientist across the room and pin him against the wall, very similarly to the way Sylar did with his many victims, right before he melon balled them, brain and all. He suddenly realised what he was doing, in the same way that you might realise you're day dreaming rather than doing what you are supposed to be, and dropped him immediately.

"Sorry, thought I..." Peter fought the urge to say something that would most likely make him sound paranoid. "I'm sorry..." He smiled awkwardly and nervously scratched his head as the other man struggled to his feet.

"Don't give me that! You just threw me against a wall, damn it Peter - that hurt! You'd better tell me what's going on with you right now." He sounded like an angry parent. Well given the Molly-situation, he kind of was.

"Theoretically, what would happen if Sylar tried to steal my power?"

"Didn't we already have this conversation? It'd probably kill him. The empathic abilities would be at war with one another, it would tear him apart."

"Interesting..." So he wasn't imagining it, the alarm screaming 'danger' inside his head wasn't paranoia as he had sincerely hoped it had been. Problem was, he had attacked the wrong person. "So, Doctor, how's Molly?" His question was sugar-coated with cruel intention.

"She's fine, Matt won't let you get to her."

_'Shouldn't have told him that, now he knows where to find her. Nice one, you just led the bogeyman right to her door... Did he grow his hair?'_

_'Oh, you noticed!' _

_'He just read my mind... No, no no no. Tell me you didn't.'_

_'Oh, I did. I'm as much inside your head as you are in mine.' _That particular remark had Peter scared, terrified even. Peter stared in disbelief and spoke,

"Matt is dead..."


End file.
